ite face. Not heeding what she did, she had taken the
sharp foil by mistake. It was dark in the corner where the chest stood.

"It is nothing," he said. "It is nothing, I assure you."

"What is the matter?" asked Gianluca, in astonishment, for he could not
see that the foil had no button.

But Veronica did not answer him. She was close to Taquisara now,
clutching his arm with both hands and staring at the wire mask which
covered his face.

"You are hurt! I know you are hurt!" she said, in a voice faint with
fear.

"Oh no!" he answered, with a short laugh. "I was a little surprised.
Take another foil. It is nothing, I assure you."

"I know you are hurt," she repeated. "Oh God! I might have killed you--"

She felt dizzy, and sick with horror, and she clung to his arm, now, for
support.

"Do you mean to say that you had the sharp foil?" asked Gianluca,
beginning to understand.

"It is nothing at all," said Taquisara. "It ran through my jacket, just
under the arm. It did not touch me."

"It might have run through you," said Gianluca, gravely. "It might have
killed you."

"Oh--please--please--" cried Veronica, still clinging to Taquisara's
arm and turning her pale face to Gianluca.

He looked on, and his face changed. There was something in her attitude,
just for a few seconds, in her ghastly pallor, in the tones of her
voice, that went through Gianluca like a knife. The dreadful instinctive
certainty that she loved the man she had so nearly killed, took
possession of him in a dark prevision of terror. Veronica was strong and
brave, but it would have been strange indeed if she had shown nothing of
what she felt.

It did not last long, and perhaps she knew what she had shown, for she
dropped Taquisara's arm, and the colour rushed to her face as she
stooped and picked up the foil with the green hilt. The hilts of the
others were blue, like those of many Neapolitan foils, and in the
lamp-light she could hardly distinguish the difference.

With sudden anger Veronica set her foot upon the steel and bent it up,
trying to break it. She could not, for it was of soft temper, but she
bent it out of all shape, so as to be useless.

She forced herself to take another, and they fenced again for a few
minutes. Gianluca watched them at first, but soon his head fell back,
and he stared at the ceiling. Death had entered into his soul. He had
guessed half the truth. But in the state in which he was on that
evening, and aft